Amarok (11 page)

He only wished he could have opened his eyes and told her goodbye, but he was so tired. It didn’t matter. She was still his girl; how could he have let her go? How could he have been so foolish as to let her risk her life? His life was over. She could never reach the cabin in time to save him. Even if she did find his totem, it would all be in vain. He’d be dead by the time she located it. He struggled to open his eyes, to make his body move, but his will was no match for the damage Suka had done, and the strength eluded him.

Amarok shivered. He was so terribly cold. The wool blanket and the roaring fire failed to chase away the bone-deep chill gripping him. Was death cold? He hoped not. He was so tired of being cold. It was tempting to let go, no longer to feel the bite of wintry freeze or the pain of his aberration of a life. But then Emma’s image floated before his eyes, and he fought to live. His spirit would stay in his body for a while longer. He’d hold on for her.

He clenched his fist before his eyes, reveling in the hairless flesh. He’d mourned his human body over the years, missed it like a mother would a lost child. Even on the edge of death, with all the pain, it was rewarding to have it again, to feel with his fingers, to curl his toes, to lie on his side and feel the floor beneath him pressing into his skin. He ran his tongue over his teeth and smiled when it encountered human-sized canines. Amarok touched his face and wondered at the differences he’d felt in Emma’s. He longed to smell her hair with a human nose, to hold her in his arms, to taste her lips… maybe in the next life, he’d get his chance.

His blood pulsed faintly, growing weaker. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the drums overriding his heartbeat, the ancient death chant of his ancestors.

Emma carried the gun and a backpack, heavy with supplies. Her mind filled with doubt. Everything that had happened seemed too incredible to believe. A boy turned into a wolf? An evil shaman from the ice age? It all sounded crazy. How could any of this be real? But then it came to her, like light from a dark cloud—inside, somehow, she knew it was all too real. She’d seen it with her own eyes, cleaned his wounds with her own hands, and listened with her own ears to the strange tale.

Emma quickly followed the roar of rushing water north, down a mushy trail snaking around boulders and mossy trees. The path ended at a stony bank along a wide river. She studied the agitated water. The angry growl of the waves and the speed at which the river rushed made her stomach burn. She thought of her mother, lungs bursting with water, and her heart plummeted. Her throat felt dry, so she knelt on a smooth rock and drank from the frothy liquid. Emma savored the cold, coppery taste, swallowing down the horrible images of her dead mother.

A short way downstream, she spotted a kayak on the shore next to a crude wooden dock. Emma dragged the little boat as she climbed onto the structure, testing it first to make sure it wouldn’t give way and plunge her into the icy river. The boards creaked and groaned under her weight, and with every step the water glugged and splashed onto her boots.

Emma set the double-bladed paddle on the dock. She wrapped the rope tied to the bow around her hand, slid the boat into the turbulent water, and attempted to get into the unsteady craft. The boat zipped from underneath her, and she jumped to the safety of the dock. She reeled the vessel in closer, pulling on the rope until the kayak rested against the pier. Emma found her footing and carefully climbed into the kayak. She clung to the dock with one hand, afraid of capsizing as she reached for the wooden paddle. Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed off with the paddle and guided the kayak into the swift water.

The current snagged her and she shot down the river at a frightening speed. Chunks of pack ice barreled past. She frantically alternated between steering and pushing them away from the sides of the fragile craft. The bitter wind sliced at her throat. She zipped the heavy parka higher, covering her mouth, and awkwardly pulled the ties on the waterproof skirt lining the opening of the kayak around her waist. The first wet flake of snow landed on her nose. “Perfect—just what I need!”

Emma laughed. She’d really done it this time. She’d gotten herself neck-deep in another mess. Trouble followed her like a predator after bleeding prey. But what did she have to lose by trying? Even if none of it were true—even if she’d lost her mind—man or wolf, Amarok was worth the struggle.

The river narrowed and she began to pick up even more speed, traveling faster and faster down the powerful current. Emma paddled hard, trying to gain control. The vessel keeled to one side, shooting into the middle fork of the waterway. Snow tumbled on the winds in thick smothering globs, muffling the sound of the rushing water and creating an eerie rumbling. Emma squinted, fighting to see as she barely missed a large rock, half-submerged in the foamy water. She paddled even harder, praying she’d regain control before her strength gave out. Finally, the river widened again and the waters slowed, giving her a rest from the breakneck speed.

Emma glanced at the dark trees, shrouded in snow like sheeted specters. Mountain men with guns and hideous monsters threatened her from every shadow. A bird screeched near her left ear and she almost sprang from the boat. Emma glanced upward as a huge owl slashed through the air, angled sideways, and landed somewhere in the tall trees ahead.

The bird’s piercing eyes bored into hers as the kayak slid through the waves. Was it the same one that had been following Amarok? Could the thing be a spy for the shaman? The owl burst from the trees and swooped over her head. Emma shrieked and ducked. The owl wheeled, its big wings fanning the air, landing on the tip of the kayak. She studied the bird, a great snowy owl. She’d read about them in science class. Weren’t they only out at night? Or was it during the day? The thing hopped closer and Emma gazed at its powder-white plumage, at the curious dark mark on its wing. The owl focused on Emma, letting out an alarming series of high-pitched shrieks. Something about its unsettling cries disturbed her, the way it seemed to see right into her soul, clacking its black beak like a bad omen.

Emma waved her paddle at it and the bird took flight, disappearing into brush along the bank. She kept her eyes on the spot, waiting for the owl to reappear, when something crashed out of the trees. Her chest tightened—timber wolves. Three snarling carnivores raced down the bank.

The boat slammed to a stop, entangled in the sunken branches of a log. The wolves leapt into the frigid waters, and Emma’s heart seemed to leap from her chest as they approached. The lead wolf reached her first; it struggled to crawl into the boat, massive jaws snapping. Emma smashed at its head with the paddle. The beast gave a yelp of pain and sank into the icy depths, and then surfaced near the bank. The other wolves thrashed in the water, the freezing temperatures stealing their speed.

Emma shoved the paddle down hard and pushed against the log, freeing the boat. A second wolf climbed onto the bow of the kayak, pushing it dangerously low in the water. The creature lost its footing, yelped, and slipped off.

She paddled into the current, continuing the perilous trek downriver, every nerve on high alert. Another fork in the river appeared dead ahead. Making a quick decision, she paddled to the right and instantly regretted it. The arctic water roiled beneath the vessel. More snags and log jams clogged the route. Treacherous rocks scraped along her hull.

The boat picked up speed and a deafening roar thundered in her ears. She nearly fainted as she spotted the massive drop-off. Tucking the paddle under one arm, Emma gripped the sides of the boat, holding on with all her strength. The kayak flew over the ledge and went airborne for one terrifying moment before it slammed back into the water. Jagged rocks protruded like knives in every direction. Emma screamed as the kayak flipped, dumping her out of the boat and into the river.

The freezing water took hold of her like a skeletal hand closing around her throat. The current wrapped icy fingers around her ankles, pulling her under. She fought to the surface, but just before she reached it, her muscles went numb. She flailed her arms until her fingers raked across a rocky outcropping. Emma lost her grip and sank into the murky depths. So cold. So dark. She spiraled downward, kicking and twisting to get back to the surface. Something tangled around her boots. What’s down there? Her muscles grew heavier, cramping. God, no!

She burst to the surface. The cold air seized her chest. She sank again, surfaced and saw a man reaching for her, just as she went under again. His face old and leathery, he smiled with piercing brown eyes, stirred the waters beneath her, and sucked her down into the unknown. Her mind embraced one last terrifying thought—how easily the shaman had killed her.

The fire winked and faded into glowing embers. Chills racked Amarok’s battered frame. His thoughts turned to Emma, alone in the cold. She never should have gone on such a dangerous journey by herself. His spirit ached to go to her, her pull stronger than the drums that continued to haunt him, but his body remained stubbornly unresponsive. He couldn’t even crawl to what remained of the fire to protect himself from the cold. How could he protect her? The instinct was so strong that, if still in wolf form, he would’ve howled his frustration.

This was all his fault. He should have lied to her, sent to her Ben’s place. The kindly trapper would have seen to her safety. But in his pain and desperation, he hadn’t thought quickly enough. Now, it was too late. He’d put Emma in harm’s way. What if—no! He couldn’t bear the thought of her being transformed into some kind of beast, enslaved forever, her love for him slowly changing to resentment and then hatred with the knowledge that it’d been his fault. Her humanity gradually eaten away as her rage turned her into a monster to be feared, rather than a girl to be loved. Tears, the first he’d shed in longer than he could remember, slid from his eyes. If only he’d been strong enough. He was supposed to protect her, and instead he’d condemned her to the life that had nearly driven him mad.

He clenched his fists. Everything and everyone he’d ever cared about had fallen victim to Milak’s evil—first his family, and now the girl he’d grown so fond of. He rubbed his feverish forehead and the touch of his own hand soothed him. He remembered how Emma had stroked his fur so gently, and then touched his arm as a man. Amarok smiled, remembering how she had gazed at him. Had he really seen affection in her eyes, or had he simply imagined it? Please, let it be true. He struggled to sit upright. Pain ripped through him. He clutched his sides. What good would love do him now? He’d be dead before she returned. If she did come back. Tears burned his eyes. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. He thought of his father, and what he’d say if he saw his son behaving like this. He bit back his tears and forced himself to allow a faint glimmer of hope into his heart. What if, by some miracle, she found the second totem in time? He would live again! But would she stay with him, out here in the middle of nowhere? Maybe she’d leave him for the city, and perhaps that was the right thing to do. If he left this area, he would age and die in a matter of days. The Ryans had taken sadistic pleasure in reminding him of that. He put all thoughts out of his mind and gazed into the gaping mouth of the hearth. It waited, empty and cold, like his life without Emma.

A loud tap shattered his sad thoughts. The tap came again and again.

Coming from the window.